Last night they’d made love, talked, slept a little and then made love again. It had become the blissful pattern for their summer. Theirs. Michael had never shared more than a few weeks with any woman, but now he willing claimed an entire season with Belle. What would autumn bring? Winter? He paused to look out across the park vibrant with the colors of summer and suddenly felt a note of dread mix with his anticipation.
Once Belle knew Drew no longer needed her she would return to London and that spelled the end of their affair. There would be no discreet little bower on the outside of Mayfair where he would call on her. She’d hand him his bollocks for even suggesting such a thing. He remembered the pain and fury in her face the day he’d tried to settle the funds and property on her. He’d never hurt her like that again. The money and house would remain in her name, but he’d have his solicitor handle everything at some point in the distant future.
Michael’s eventual marriage would have ended their relationship anyway. Belle would never give herself to a married man, yet, the idea of wedding a young woman fresh from her first season was more repellant to him now than it had been five years ago. No, there was only one woman he’d consider marrying and it could easily spell disaster for both of them. Eventually, he’d get bored with fidelity. He’d never remained faithful to any woman.Except Belle, the voice inside him said. Also, he wanted a future as a policy maker for Britain and his wife would have to be a social asset, not a liability. If he wanted to see half the reforms he had in mind accomplished he needed the support of the lords and just as importantly, the support of their wives. The voice spoke again,There are other ways to fight for reform. Michael slowed his pace. He began to consider harsher realities than whether or not he had enough cachet to sway votes.
How will you feel when she’s gone? How will you feel when another man falls in love with her, or when she falls in love with him? Devastated. There was no other word for the mere thought of Belle spending her life with another man. He loved her. Dear God, how he loved her. No other woman but Belle understood him so completely, his moods, his passions. He thought about the way she’d come after him in the hall the other day. She’d known not only what seeing Drew walk those few step meant to him, but also the way his brother had hugged him back. Yes, Michael was home and Belle, bless her, understood exactly how he felt.
Could he be faithful to her? He given up his mistress with scarcely a thought. It had felt like the right thing, the only thing to do. He hadn’t so much as kissed another woman since Belle’s arrival at the Abbey. Truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to kiss or make love to anyone else but her. He came to a halt on the steps to the house as an epiphany clouted him in the head. He’d been happier in the last few weeks with Belle than in the ten years previous and if he let her go because of ridiculous conventions he deserved to be a miserable arse for the rest of his life.
Only one thing had kept him from asking Belle to be his wife and it wasn’t the difference in their social standings, nor concerns about parliamentary power. He’d never given a set of rats knackers about either of those things in his life. His fear held him in check. He feared her refusal of his suit, of him and his heart. He’d feared that Belle, like his mother, or Revati would use his love against him, turning it into a warped and twisted thing. He shook his head. Annabelle Winslow was not that kind of woman. Hell, neither was Lady Arabella Winston, for that matter. In spite of her missteps and her vixenish behavior she had loved him five years ago with every ounce of her heart. That love might not have stood a chance then because of the people they had been, but now it was theirs by right. It was their destiny.
Convincing Belle to become his countess would not be an easy task. If he asked her now she would flatly tell him, no. Belle had her own devils driving her. She still believed similar versions of the same falsehoods he’d used on himself, but the truth was that like him, she was simply frightened of letting herself love again. He knew what some of her fears were and could guess at most of the others, but he vowed to help her lay as many of them to rest as possible.
No, today was not the day to ask her to marry him — probably not tomorrow or the next day either, but he could wait. He’d let her pick the moment and when he asked her, he’d only ask her once. His mouth curved slowly into a smile and anyone who’d ever done business with him, legal or otherwise, knew exactly what that smile meant and to a man, they would have told Belle Winslow that her fate was already sealed.
***
London
Duncan Gillian had only a moment to consider the chaos in his study before a blow struck him forcefully on the back of his head. He collapsed amid the piles of papers and books strewn across the floor of the ransacked room. His assailant stood triumphantly over him, a strange and twisted smile upon his face.
“Not so clever now, are you?” Seaton rasped. “Not clever enough to keep her hidden from me.” Elkhorn had done him a good turn when he’d rattled on about some doctor being Araby’s lover, though in actuality it had been that bastard Kingsford who’d led Seaton here. He’d been following him for days, waiting for a chance to attack him when the whore’s son led him right to a clinic by the docks and to the man who now lay sprawled at his feet. Gillian had stolen his glorious girl away and turned her into a servant, into a whore.
It took Seaton another few minutes to locate the doctor’s cash box. He pulled the bank notes out and stuffed them into his pocket along with the true treasure he’d discovered this evening. He’d found her letter shortly after beginning his search. Its contents made him furious and that’s why he’d continued to tear the room apart. She’d gone to Stowebridge and his weakling brother. She hadn’t learnt her lesson at all. He wanted to howl with rage as he thought of her betrayal, but he settled for delivering a series of savage kicks to the doctor’s ribs instead. Gillian groaned a little but didn’t stir. Seaton reached for the bronze paperweight on the desk. He’d bash the Gillian’s brains out – show her the true cost of her defection.
Before he could strike though, he heard footsteps in the hall and a woman’s voice. “Doctor? Are you home then?” She knocked on the door and opened the door. Her screams brought the sound of more feet – running this time. Seaton rushed to the window where he’d entered, clambered out of it and ran towards the mews. He hadn’t finished off the doctor as he’d have liked and that was something she would pay for too. He had just one more acquaintanceship to renew and then he would be ready to finish them all.
***
Surry
She was turning into a giggler. In her day she’d smirked, chuckled coyly, even given an arch laugh or two, but giggle? No. Heaven forfend she should awaken one morning and discover herself doing an all out simper. Belle hummed a little music hall ditty she’d learned from Nettie.
“In the moonlight they went walking,
and set the neighbors all to talking
He took more than just her fancy
there amid the....”
“I don’t think I know that one,” Michael drawled behind her, “but it certainly sounds promising.” Belle whirled around to find him grinning at her. “You’ll have to teach it to me. Better yet, show me.”
“There is a lot lacking in my interpretation, I’m afraid,” Belle answered pertly. “My friend Nettie is a much better singer and dancer than I am.”
“Nettie? As in Nettie Pomeroy?” Belle nodded enjoying the surprise on Michael’s face. “My dear Miss Winslow, you do have the most remarkable set of acquaintances.”
“Originally, Nettie was more Katherine’s friend than mine, but when Katherine first disappeared...well, was sent into exile, Nettie contacted me to help find her.” Fate hadn’t been much kinder to Katherine than to Belle, herself. No, not fate she amended, Lord Ambrose. Thinking about Katherine’s plight drove some of the color out of the day.
“Do you want me to help you search for her?” Michael asked, his face filled with concern. “I would be happy to make inquiries on your behalf.”
“Thank
you, but we’ve found her. Katherine’s husband sent her north. As long as Nettie and I don’t try to help her run away we are allowed to write to her and she, to us. Still, I’m most concerned for her safety.”
Michael took ahold of her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I know something of Rutledge. I’ve done business with him before and seen him socially on occasion. He’s a hard man, a little coarse around the edges perhaps, but while I know he’s not a man you’d want to cross, I can’t see him actually harming Lady Katherine. He isn’t the type.”
“Not like my stepfather?” Michael frowned at her reminder that no one had ever suspected what a monster the baron could be behind the politely closed doors of their home.
“I will make those inquiries,” he assured her, “discreetly, of course. If he turns out to be anything remotely like Seaton I will do whatever I can to help your friend.”
“Thank you, Michael,” Belle said with feeling. “The man may not be a monster, but he’s definitely cruel. He imprisoned Katherine for failing to provide his family with the social position he sought when he married her. Lady Bellwood virtually sold Katherine to him and now that wretched woman has turned her back on her only child.”
“More of Ambrose’s work,” Michael murmured. Belle nodded.
“She has no one to turn to and the law, of course, is completely on her husband’s side. If I were a man I’d call Rutledge out myself,” she affirmed sharply.
“First, duels are illegal and second, if you were a man none of our passionate encounters would ever have happened.” He leaned over and placed a kiss just above the collar of her gown. “Now that would be a pity.”
She smiled and relaxed into the series of light kisses he placed along the line of her neck. “I really should stop you,” she murmured, nestling against him. “What if someone saw us?”
“What if they did?” Michael countered, switching to the other side of her neck.
“My reputation would be completely lost and it is on shaky ground as it is.” His lips held a magic all their own, she thought as she tipped her head to a more accommodating angle.
“Then I’d simply have to do right by you, wouldn’t I?” Belle stiffened slightly and pulled away from him. She couldn’t have heard him correctly.
“Don’t joke about such things, Michael. My reputation is important to me. It’s keeps me employable. Besides, there is no question of us marrying. It’s impossible.”
He caught her by her shoulders and gently turned her to face him. “I’m not making a joke, Belle,” he said quietly. “If I thought there was a better than fair shot that you’d accept me I’d ask you to marry me here and now, but I can tell by your reaction that you’re not ready to even consider a proposal. You’re too busy counting up all the shoulds and shouldn’ts. That’s not leaving you any time to ask yourself the proper questions.”
“And what are those?” Belle whispered a little hoarsely.
Michael gave her a mysterious little smile, a trademark of her own in bygone days and Belle found she didn’t like being on the receiving end of it very much. “You’ll have to uncover them for yourself,” he answered. “That’s what I had to do and once you can answer those questions truthfully nothing else will matter.”
Belle narrowed her eyes suddenly feeling rather cross with him. “When did you start talking like a Brahmin?”
He laughed, “Today, apparently.”
Belle pulled a leaf off a nearby Chinaberry bush. “Well, stop it. It’s most annoying.”
Michael leaned towards her, grinning wickedly. “Then perhaps you should find a better way for me to occupy my mouth.”
She laughed, then swiftly surveyed the house and garden for watching eyes. Satisfied, she gave him a light kiss. “You are an impossible man,” she murmured against his mouth.
He exchanged her kiss for one of his own. “Yes, I am and you, madam, have had ample warning. One day I will ask you to marry me.” He stroked her cheek tenderly and Belle feared her heart might burst as hope and longing warred against her fear and fatalism. She’d long ago given up dreams of marriage and children, never wanting to be under someone else’s control, to be owned, ever again — even by Michael. And what of his dreams, the ones he’d shared with her that day at the inn and again in his bed after they made love? Her stepfather’s actions had made her a social pariah even without the fact she worked for her living. As his wife she would be a liability to him.
As if sensing every chaotic emotion she felt inside her, he pressed his index finger softly to her lips, stopping the flow of words that would deny the possibility of something so wondrous between them. “I will only ask you to marry me once, Belle, and if you choose to refuse me, then I will never ask you again, but you will pick the day I ask you. Every day from now until Christendom I will ask you what day it is. When you look at me and say to me, ‘today, Michael, the day is today,’ then I will know it’s time.” He tipped her head up to meet his eye. “So, I ask you now, Miss Winslow, what day is it?”
Her heart pounded and part of her longed to give him the answer he wanted. “It’s Tuesday, my lord.” She waited for disappointment and anger to kill the warmth in his expression. It didn’t.
He grinned. “You’re a stubborn woman, Belle. Luckily for you I have insidious patience.”
The sound of horse’s hooves trotting briskly along the graveled drive abruptly ended their interlude and they left the seclusion of the side garden to watch the rider’s approach. Belle didn’t recognize him. Judging from the breadth of his shoulders and the length of his torso he was a tall man, but his features were obscured by distance and by the wide-brimmed hat he wore pulled low on his forehead.
“It’s Rafe,” Michael murmured before striding to meet him.
Belle felt as if someone had plunged her into scalding water. Rafe Kingsford. What could he want? Of all the ruthless men she’d had the misfortune to meet in her life, Rafe Kingsford topped the list. He’d ruined Sarah and seen her forever banished from her home without so much as a twinge of conscience. Ambrose’s lapdog – he had almost killed her friend and destroyed Belle, herself. She fought her urge to turn and run into the house. No, she would stay and face him. She had never retreated under fire and she wouldn’t do so now.
***
Michael wasted no time on preliminaries. “What’s happened, Rafe. Why are you here?” The other man met his words with a sardonic smile.
“You don’t seem that pleased to see me, Stowebridge.” He glanced across the lawn to where Belle stood. “Am I interrupting your morning stroll with the lovelyMiss Winslow?”Michael didn’t care for his tone and his own expression must have said as much, because Rafe chuckled.
“No insult intended,” he said, dismounting. “I didn’t come here to stir up a pot of old porridge. I came to warn both of you.”
“Warn us of what?” Michael queried as he led Rafe back across the grass to Belle. There was no denying that Rafe’s presence made a change in Belle’s demeanor. She stood stiffly, her arms wrapped around herself in a protective stance, her features cast in barely contained fury.
“You weren’t attacked by some random thug while you were in London, Stowebridge. It was calculated and you’re lucky to be alive.”
They came to a halt in front of Belle and she caught the last of Rafe’s words. She gasped, and searched Rafe’s face, all thoughts of past wrongs forgotten in her concern.
“What do you mean, it was calculated?” she demanded. “Who attacked him?” Michael heard fear hiding behind the sharpness of her questions.
Rafe recognized it as well. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod and spoke to her with a gentleness Michael never knew the man possessed. “It was Seaton. He’s searching for you. He didn’t know where to look for you though, until recently. Two nights ago he attacked Dr. Gillian in his home.”
Belle’s hand shook as she brought it up to grasp her own throat. “Dear God.” Michael wrapped his arm around her shoulders unmindful of who saw him.
If his actions surprised Rafe the other man said nothing.
“He’ll recover,” Rafe continued, “but he has some broken ribs and quite a lump on his head.”
“How can you be so certain it was the baron who attacked him?” she asked. This was the question Michael dreaded, because answering it would uncover his and Rafe’s investigation into her past.
Rafe looked to Michael for confirmation before answering her and Michael gave him a single nod. “I’ve been tracking his movements, trying to locate him for months now. He disappeared from his usual haunts. I recently learned he’d returned to England. Unfortunately, Seaton must have been dogging my steps and followed me when I met with Dr. Gillian about you.”
Belle frowned in confusion. “Why would you speak to Duncan about me?”
“Belle,” Michael began gently.
She swiftly turned her angry gaze on him. “You askedhimto spy on me?” She shook her head, a look of pain and disbelief etched itself onto her face. “Why would you do that? Didn’t you believe me?” Her shoulders slumped and she pulled away from him. “No, of course you didn’t. Why would you?”
“I asked Rafe to look into your background when you first arrived,” Michael said taking hold of both her hands. She tried to pull them away, but he held fast. “I may have doubted your word then, Belle, but never after that day in the gallery, not after you told me about the tontine. Please try to understand. I knew you were hiding something and I feared that you would never tell me what, so I had Rafe keep digging.” He turned towards the other man. “Considering what he’s learned about Seaton, it’s a blessing I did.”
“I learned from my mistake with Gillian,” Rafe offered. “I’d also spoken to Miss Pomeroy last week, so before I left London, I sent word to her to find another place to stay for a few days. I received word that she’s gone to ground and is safe. She said you would know where.”
A Terrible Beauty (Season of the Furies Book 1) Page 37
